Trust Issues
by bhspgmg
Summary: Liz is a little more perceptive and Tom is a little less careful. Red is just caught up in the aftermath. Will, knowing these characters, probably drift into Lizzington land at some point.
1. Chapter 1

As I take the mysterious box out of its hole in my dining room floor I can feel the remaining trust that I have in my husband evaporate. Even without looking inside of it I know that it will be the final nail in the coffin of our marriage. For months now I've known that Tom has been cheating on me. No school sends one teacher to the sheer number of conferences that he claims to go to. Technically I have no proof but I can't ignore the gut feeling that I have that something isn't right between the two of us. That something is fundamentally flawed. It was so incredibly stupid of me, not to mention selfish, to suggest adoption as a way to bond us again. A way to fix whatever it is that is wrong with our relationship. And now I find this hidden compartment in my house hiding a mystery box.

I stare at it as I pick it up and move it to the table, dumbfounded that a night of cleaning up my husband's blood turned into this. I take a healthy sip of my chardonnay before I open the lid. And there it is, the final nail, the killing blow to my marriage. Inside the box I see what must be close to half a million dollars in cash, forged passports from what seems like every major country, a handgun, and a huge pile of photos. Quickly I decide that I'll get the most information from the photos and soon enough I'm proven right. Among the collection appears to be old pictures of me back when I was still dating Nick, along with pictures of random men and women I couldn't recognize, and, most importantly, a large stack of pictures of Reddington. I try not to dwell on the fact that apparently my husband is the link between Reddington and myself since apparently Tom has been stalking both of us for quite some time. I try not to dwell on the fact that some of these pictures link Reddington and my father together in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable.

My first instinct is to hand the box over to Cooper, but then I don't really want my co-workers examining every facet of my life while I sit on the sidelines. If the gun is any indication it looks like I shouldn't confront Tom about it either, not that I could with him being in a coma. I'm not going to go to my dad with this, I know better than to have a talk about the FBIs fourth most wanted criminal over a civilian landline. This, rather unfortunately, left me with only one option. Only one person who might be able to explain to me what it is that I found today, and why I found it. I need to talk to Reddington about it, the one man who might be able to help me and he's locked up tight in as FBI hole somewhere. I'll just have to tell Cooper that I'm trying to get the name of another blacklister from Reddington and hope that's enough to get me cleared to visit.

Works like a charm. Cooper has me cleared within a day to visit Reddington. As the guard opens the door I steel myself for what I'm sure will be another Reddington stare-down. He looks up to me as I lean against the doorway of his cell.

"You've discovered something curious about your husband, haven't you Lizzie?" he asks. His infernal smirk appearing just as he finishes the question.

"Tell me what you know Reddington," I snap back. I really don't have the patience to deal with whatever guessing game he wants me to play now.

"Why Lizzie, I couldn't possibly tell you anything if you don't share with me what you've found," he says all too cheerfully.

"Well since you apparently know everything I thought it would be no problem for you to share what you know about the box that I found under my floorboards," I say as my patience nears the end of its rope.

"And what exactly would be inside of this box Lizzie? I hope not anything naughty, because really that's a conversation for your husband I would think," he teases having decided to switch from his smirk to a boyish smile.

Since he's having so much fun with this I don't think I'll get any answers today. However now might be the perfect time to use some of the knowledge that the pictures gave me to throw him off of his game.

"I can see that this visit isn't very productive so I'm going to leave. Just one more question before I go. When you sent me that bracelet from Brazil for my sixth birthday how on earth did you know what my favorite colors were?" I ask trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

I know that I've struck a nerve when I see all of the color drain from his face as he gapes at me. A little part of me is proud of myself for making this man who usually has control of any given situation around him lose all control. The rest of me is still pissed that Reddington and Sam were close enough that Sam apparently acted as an in-between for Reddington to give me things. And that there is some sort of bond between Reddington and I that makes him want to give me presents? This opens a whole other slew of issues that frankly I am just too tired to be mad about right now but I'm sure I'll make time for later. For now I watch as he tries to compose himself.

"How on earth did you find that out?" he manages to croak out.


	2. Chapter 2

The look on Reddington's face as his cell door slammed shut is one of the only things that has kept me going the past week as I've been alone in my house. Tom is still in the hospital recovering from Zamani's attack and Reddington is stuck in a cell until the top brass of the FBI decide whether or not to offer him immunity in exchange for his list. And it's not just him that's waiting for a response; I'm also stuck in limbo right along with him. Officially, I have time off so that I can take care of my husband and come to terms with what has happened. Unofficially, I know that they have no idea what to do with me; they can't send me to work as a profiler when there's the possibility of Reddington coming back, and they won't bring me back to the Post Office without him because they don't trust me. On one hand I've been going crazy in this house with only Hudson for company but on the other hand it's almost been nice for me to have a week alone to run different ideas through my head of the best thing to do with the box.

The one thing that I know for sure I am going to do is keep the stack of photos that I found. There are hundreds of pictures and I just can't give up the chance to not only catch Reddington by surprise again, but also to learn more about who Tom Keen actually is and who he works for. I could give the rest of the box to Reddington to deal with, but if he is involved in some way with it than it would be like handing him a golden ticket to keep hiding things from me. Not that he seems very willing to share anything with me now. Another option is destroying the box and just pretending that nothing is different when Tom wakes up and gets home. This seems the most dangerous of options because who knows how often he adds to the little photo collection in the box, and with it missing I'm not confident that there is a no-kill order that he would still have to follow in regards to me. I trained to be a profiler, not a field agent; I'm not embarrassed to admit that if what I think about Tom is true than in my current state I have approximately zero chance of survival. That's just something I'm going to have to work extra hard to fix while my dear husband is in the hospital. The best, but most emotionally risky, option is to send the box to my dad. All I would have to do is take out the gun, make a few copies of the pictures that link Reddington and him and put them in, and add in a burner phone that he can use to call me when he gets the package. If daddy knows anything surely he'll tell his little butterball. Especially if he thinks that I know more than I actually do, which is why hopefully I can talk to Reddington again soon.

Finally coming to a decision spurs me into motion as I place the gun back into the box's hiding spot and work on prepping the box to ship off to Nebraska. And it seems that everything is falling into place when Cooper calls telling me that I'm expected at the Post Office tomorrow, right as I finish dropping off my package at the post office. After a busy night I wake up feeling fully refreshed, headed to what is beginning to feel like my first actual day on the job. No helicopters or interrogations awaiting me as I drink my morning coffee. Although once I arrive at the Post Office it seems that my hope that there would be no interrogations was pointless. The coffee helped steel my nerves as they hooked me up to a polygraph and I could have cried tears of joy when all of the questions they asked were dated to back before I first saw Reddington one week ago. All the digging I did in the week that followed was still safe from questioning. Luckily it was over quickly enough and once again I found myself on my way to speak to Raymond Reddington. His deal isn't even close to being official yet but here he is offering to speak with me about someone who would derail an entire train just to kill one person. Walking toward the opening glass box I try with all my might to hold onto my previous victory.

"I can't tell you how good it is to see you again Lizzie," he greets me warmly.

"My name is Agent Keen, not Lizzie. And I need you to tell me about who's behind the train wreck," I say authoritatively. Without slowing down I continue, "You've made your demands now here are mine. I ask the questions and you answer them. You screw with me and I walk. Are we clear?"

"How's Tom?" he answers.

"Well that doesn't at all seem to fit into our new rules," I say, "now if you want me to stay here and you want even a chance at immunity I suggest you start telling me what you know about the train wreck".

"What would you like to know?" he says. I wonder which of the two threats I made was the one that made him start taking me seriously.

"Everything," I respond.

"The man responsible for your train wreck is prolific. He is also responsible for a slew of other pre-meditated killings just like this one all disguised as accidents. Shall I go on?" he glances down at his shackles as he finishes speaking.

I glance at the guard and give the nod indicating that Reddington can be un-cuffed and allowed to follow me to brief the whole team. As Reddington explains to everyone just what this blacklister has done I spend my time just watching him speak. It's fascinating to see this usually reserved man let himself go as he is so clearly in his element. Watching Reddington's face as he speaks has already given me enough information about this 'Freelancer' that I can create a good working profile on him. Not that we will really need it because with Ressler's stupid pen pal comment it's easy enough to see that Reddington has met this man before. It's written all over his face, Reddington is the key to finding both the Freelancer and the identity of the Freelancer's victim. It's with that in mind that I'm so eager to have Reddington set up a meeting with anyone who can get us closer to the information we need. It takes me a moment to realize that I just agreed to go to dinner with Reddington alone in Montreal. Although looking at Cooper's face as Reddington is led out of the room I really don't think that this dinner is going to be without surveillance. I try shaking my head to clear it as I walk to the elevator when I hear a voice.

"Lizzie, we simply must discuss dinner tonight. Walk back with me?" he asks.

I nod quickly as I ponder just what questions to ask him now to get the right information to ask Sam questions later. We slowly fall into step together, walking through the site when I think of a decent opening question.

"So how did you and Sam meet? I know it wasn't the Navy," I ask, making sure to keep my eyes straight ahead and my pace steady. I know I've opened strong when I hear a slight hitch in his breath and notice a small pause in his step.

"Sam who?" he responds.

"You can cut the crap Reddington. I've seen the pictures, and I know about the money and the passports in the box," I snap back, trying to be mindful of the guard just a few feet behind us. I can see what looks like confusion with a flash of fear dance across his face before it becomes unreadable once again. It's easy to see that any more questions about the pictures right now are just going to put him on edge so I settle for getting information on the box. I can wait until dinner to ask the questions I don't want the guard to have a chance to hear anyway.

"Have you told anyone else? Cooper, perhaps?" he says with a sort of forced calm.

"No," I answer, just waiting to see what his next move is.

"Well it seems that there are only two options. If you go to the authorities with the box you are looking at a staggering amount of jail time. Or you can confront your husband with it, but he'll likely just deny everything anyway until all that you are left with is doubt. It's an impossible situation either way." He says trying to look sympathetic.

"Why thank you for that advice Reddington but I'm pretty sure we both know that the money and the passports in that box have your hands all over them. It's only a matter of time before I find out the truth and I'm only going to get more pissed off at you the longer you don't tell me. Also I can think of plenty more than just two options of how to deal with one box. In fact it's already taken care of." I say with venom building in my voice. He stays quiet after this until we get back to his box when I decide to leave him with.

"Now why don't you go and get yourself looking handsome for our dinner tonight. Why don't you wear your lovely grey suit with the matching fedora, but for the love of god try to refrain from pairing it with that horrid blue flower tie again. Oh, and I don't feel like buying anything to wear so I hope you realize you'll be providing my outfit tonight." I state, my voice dripping with as much sweetness as I can muster up. His face quickly morphs from blank to pure surprise and as I turn around I can't keep the smug smile off of my face as I think about the fact that walking away from an outsmarted Raymond Reddington has to be one of the most satisfying things on the planet.


End file.
